“Your hands are shaking,” she says, sliding her fingertips down my forearm to steady my hand by clasping it in hers.
I stand, pulling away from her. I’m still completely naked, and it feels a little strange to be bare-ass naked outdoors in the light of the morning, but I don’t care.
She stands, apparently feeling the same because she starts to hunt down her panties and bra, sliding them on. I’ve played this scene out so many times before. The morning after, when reality comes crashing back and I realize I want nothing more than to get as far as fucking possible from the woman I just slept with. I keep waiting for the uncontrollable need to get separation and space. It’s part of what really held me back from sleeping with Makayla.
Something in me is broken, and I’ve known it for a long time. I can’t stick around after I’ve taken what I want from a woman. We talk, drink, flirt, and then fuck. After that, it’s empty. I didn’t want the same thing to happen with Makayla. I worried even the feelings I have for her would be tainted by the darkness that takes me when I fuck, but all I feel is the cold morning air chilling my sweat-soaked body, the lingering surprise that I was able to cum without dominating and forcing her to submit to me. We just had sex. There wasn’t anything dirty or twisted about it. And I came.
When I turn slightly to look at her as she bends over to pick up her pants, my cock stirs and I think about moving behind her to grip those perfect fucking hips and…
I still want her. I still want her as bad as the night before, maybe worse. But something else is pulling at my consciousness. Guilt. The sinking, stomach-churning sense that this is more than I deserve. I’m a fucking asshole who doesn’t deserve happiness. It’s not pussy feelings talking or psychobabble left over from my time with the army shrink. It’s a cold fact. I’ve killed and I’ve made mistakes that cost men who trusted me their lives. And now I learn that I made a mistake that led to Liam being tortured, and by the looks of it, he got it worse than I ever did. Fuck. I do not deserve her, but I’m going to take her because I’m a selfish bastard. I want her too badly to let her go again, and I can’t stand the thought of her with another man.
“We should head back,” I say.
She bites her lip, looking drop-dead gorgeous in her lacy black panties and white bra with black trim. “Only if you keep those clothes off.”
I smirk, glancing down at my rock-hard cock and naked body. “That might not be the best way to avoid notice.”
She steps in closer, hand circling my cock. “I might need to take care of this for you if you plan to fit beneath the steering wheel.”
I lick my lips, stealing a handful of her perfect ass and kissing her softly on the lips. “As much as I would enjoy that, we really shouldn’t linger here. “Makayla… my dog Makayla, has probably crapped all over the apartment by now.”
She gives me an amused look. “I’m starting to get a lot less flattered that you named your dog after me.”
I grab my clothes and start to get dressed. “I told you. The shelter named her that.”
“Right,” she says.
I park in the garage across the street from my apartment building. “Stay here,” I say to Makayla. “No running off this time.”
She glances around the parking garage a little nervously. “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”
I sniff, looking around and realizing she’s probably right. It will be safer if she’s with me. I can’t be sure how much manpower these people have. If it’s a small operation, there’s no way they would find us here. But if they’re well-funded enough, they could have eyes all over. I pull out my Glock, racking a bullet in the chamber and re-holstering it.
“You really think you’ll need that?” asks Makayla.
I motion for her to stop before we step out of the garage and onto the sidewalk, making sure it’s clear. “I don’t know. But they know I’m coming back.”
I hear her take a deep breath as we cross the street and step into the lobby of my building. There is quite a bit of activity, and I recognize most of the faces, but there are too many tenants for me to know everyone, so I move carefully, always touching Makayla and doing my best to shield her.
We take the elevator without incident and reach my hallway. My muscles are all tight, ready to engage at a moment’s notice as we cross the distance, stopping outside my door. I unlock all the locks and then draw my gun. “Stay just behind me,” I whisper to Makayla.
She nods as we creep inside. My hair prickles on the back of my neck when I hear my dog whining from the bedroom. The door was open when I left. She shouldn’t be trapped in there. I close the door behind us and quietly re-lock it. If we’re not alone in here, I don’t want any surprises coming from behind.
I turn off the lights. The blackout curtains make the apartment almost pitch black without them, despite the rising sun outside. “Stay right here,” I whisper.
I can barely see the whites of Makayla’s eyes as she nods. My dog whines in the distance, but I don’t hear anything else. I move past the kitchen, stepping silently and sliding a chef’s knife from the block on my way. I hold the knife in my left hand, which is still a little weak from the hold Liam put on me last night, and my Glock in the right. I’m about to reach my bedroom when I hear a sudden rush of movement. I whirl toward the sound just as there’s more movement from behind me, coming from Makayla’s room. One of the assailants bumps into a side-table in the near darkness and I hear him crash into the floor. The other tries to take cover behind my couch. I can’t see much, but when I hear the groan of the couch’s leather armrest, I know exactly where to point and shoot.
I squeeze off two rounds, catching split-second freeze frames of the room in the bright muzzle flash. I see a black hole ripped into the inside of the couch’s armrest from my first shot. A second hole appears an inch to the right and this time I see a man falling out from behind the couch, clutching his chest. I turn just in time to ram the knife in the other assailant’s stomach.
He’s holding a taser and a small black club, which both clatter to the floor as I ram the knife into him. Hot blood rushes over my hand and I instinctively pull the knife free, driving it home through his heart, ending him in an instant. I cross the distance to the downed man behind the couch, aiming my gun in his direction as I approach. I kneel, dragging the blade of the knife across his throat to finish the job. Both men wear the golden goat masks.